an old writer and his words

  • HOWL

    Tonight a blood moon will rise. This isn’t about lycanthropy although the moon will have the fullness that metamorphosis demands. The sky will be clouded the now crimson moon, the planet that wears the palette as its nature will lurk out of sight and we, lost in dreams, will imagine what our eyes are unable…

    Lou Faber

  • TAKING FLIGHT

    Origami cranes lumber into flight and lift into the sky over the small, back street Temple somewhere on the periphery of Shinjuku. They know their flight will be only temporary, that their wings will grow quickly tired, that the rustling sound of two thousand wings will soon fall silent as the breeze bids them a…

    Lou Faber

  • INCEPTION

    Morning arrived as usual today and we shook ourselves slowly from sleep to greet it. As we rose and drew open the curtains and blinds all that morning had to say, and said rather imperiously was “where is the coffee — you can’t expect a damn thing from me until I’ve had at least two…

    Lou Faber

  • NIGHT ARRIVES

    When we finally allow night to settle in around us, and we curl together in anticipation of sleep, we fit comfortably, but with no less passion than when we first did this, but a passion tempered by less need for flame, more for warmth and a gentle caress. We could not have anticipated this, and…

    Lou Faber

  • WINTER’S NIGHT

    A fog settles in over High Wycombe gray clouds shroud a full silver moon great beasts, sinews drawn tight, ready to spring forward, instead crawl along the motorway, the faint lights of London cast a glow to the sky, my breath seems phosphorescent, falling coating the grass, stiff in the breeze.

    Lou Faber

  • DEMONS

    In the night there are no demons just the sound of your breathing soft, as your touch on my back, your foot against my calf.

    Lou Faber

  • CHINDI

    Drum beats rhythm turtle rattle shakes Night walks eating sky earth swallows its children. Wolf howls stalking souls.

    Lou Faber

  • THE LAWS OF DREAMING

      Then, in a moment, it stopped without warning or obvious cause and it was suddenly dark. I thought of prying open the doors, stepping out into the tunnel, proceeding slowly down the narrow walkway eventually into morning. In the dark, the few bulbs remaining cast a faint glow. It was easy, I knew, to…

    Lou Faber

  • HISTORY

    I took yesterday and pressed it between the pages of my unabridged dictionary. The day began at sunrise and ended just before it became a supplicant, though to what, was not at all apparent. Days can be frustrating when they refuse to allow sufficient margins. I always thought Thursday’s among the best behaved, or at…

    Lou Faber

  • ADIRONDACK EVENING

    Atop the hill the trees are filigree against the fading light. The tents are fireflies twinkling as night reclaims the earth. I am caught up in the chill watching my breath kiss the stars. First Appeared in Blueline, Vol. 22, 2001. Reprinted in Legal Studies Forum, Vol. 29, No. 1, 2005

    Lou Faber